ƚhe asƚɼal Ĩimiƚ

I have senses that must be
put to use.
My mind images you:
finds you on water,
walking like waves
were only eyes
welling, then drying
back out.

But the scents of sea life
don’t reach me, exactly.
Feel these pockets of moisture.
That’s me dragging waves in,
trying to preserve a pocket version
of you. I turn one ear west,
as if winds traveling east
may offer a sense

of who you see me as.
At least I taste you.
It makes my cheeks tang.
Makes me take long breaths in,
sensing you
feeling me out, testing
your own breezes for bells,
the ring of senses finally agreeing